


If You Ever Come Back

by nagi_schwarz



Series: In a Galaxy Far, Far Away [3]
Category: Star Wars, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Is Ascension really death?, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, Any, the first ascension is always the hardest."AU version of 38 Minutes in Season 1 of SGA.





	

Rodney hadn’t let go of John’s clothes since the jumper had landed in the Gate Room and Beckett and the medical team swarmed aboard.  
  
To nothing.  
  
“McKay,” O’Neill said gently. “C’mon. Beckett needs to look you over.”  
  
Rodney barely registered the gentleness of O’Neill’s tone. (O’Neill was never gentle, not as himself, Nathan, and not as his previous self, Jack.) But he allowed O’Neill to tow him over to the transporter. Rodney clutched John’s empty clothes tightly, his fingers white-knuckled. Right before the transporter doors slid closed, Ford stuck a hand between them, and they slid back open. He and Teyla stepped into the transporter with them. Beckett and his medical team arrived before the doors closed, with their empty gurney and medical bags.  
  
“We’ll get the next one.” Beckett’s eyes were dark with worry, and he lifted a hand to his radio, no doubt to reach out to Marie the charge nurse and make sure she was ready to receive them.  
  
Rodney submitted to a medical exam placidly. His head was numb, his heart was pounding, and everyone’s voices were distant, muted. Whoever handled the exam did it briefly and without disturbing his grip on John’s clothes. He was fine. He hadn’t been hurt. He hadn’t been like Markham and Stackhouse, trapped in the event horizon. He hadn’t been like John, with an Iratus bug attached to his throat and feeding on him. He was fine. He was totally fine.  
  
“I know you’re fine,” O’Neill said. “Let’s get you back to your quarters.”  
  
Rodney was vaguely aware of Ford, Teyla, and O’Neill shuffling him through the hallways of Atlantis to his quarters. Ford went ahead, clearing out unnecessary personnel so no one would see Rodney in this state (Ford running ahead was his eager irritating puppy self; Rodney would be grateful for his sensitivity later, when he wasn’t reeling from both the realization that he was in love with John Sheppard and John Sheppard was _gone_ ). Teyla and O’Neill supported Rodney on either side, because he wasn’t using his arms for balance, was clutching John’s clothes to his chest and refusing to let them go. They still smelled like him. They were still warm like him. They were bundled around his lightsaber.  
  
O’Neill opened Rodney’s quarters with a thought, and he, Ford, and Teyla helped Rodney sit on the edge of his bed.  
  
“Sir?” Ford asked. He still hadn’t wrapped his head around who O’Neill really was.  
  
“Go on,” O’Neill said. “I got this.”  
  
“Nathan,” Teyla began.  
  
“I’ve wrangled scientists before,” O’Neill said. “Including ones who’ve lost the loves of their lives.”  
  
Rodney was vaguely aware of the choked noise Ford made, of Teyla patting him on the shoulder, and then he heard the door to his quarters hiss shut. The bed creaked underneath O’Neill’s weight as O’Neill sat beside him.  
  
“He’s not dead.”  
  
Rodney let out a sound that was too much like a sob. “He’s gone. You saw it. There was a light and then his clothes were just - empty. And the Iratus bug -”  
  
“He’s Ascended,” O’Neill said.  
  
Rodney had read about it, heard people turned into glowy lights and faded, but the Iratus had been stealing John’s life force, and John had just - dissolved. Succumbed. Not like being fed on by a Wraith. An Iratus feeding was purer, deeper, more total.  
  
John was gone, and all he’d left behind were his clothes, his lightsaber, his stupid Rebel Pilot wristband.  
  
Rodney didn’t even have a picture of him.

“I promise he’s fine, wherever he is,” O’Neill said. “He’s probably better than fine. He’s probably with the other Ascended Jedi Masters.”  
  
“How can you know that?” Rodney asked. “How can you -?”  
  
“The first Ascension is always the hardest,” O’Neill said. “Because you can never be sure they’ll come back.”  
  
“The first -?” Rodney blinked at him. And then he realized. “Jackson. But he -”  
  
“I saw him, sometimes.” O’Neill was staring at his hands, very carefully not looking at Rodney. “When things got - bad. And then he came back, so.”  
  
“You think John -?”  
  
O’Neill let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I do. Daniel didn’t like me nearly as much as John likes you.”  
  
(Rodney would parse that statement later, when his head was clearer, when he wasn’t wrecked with grief, stunned with loss. And he’d feel bad for O’Neill. But never speak of it. Neither of them would.)  
  
There was a scream and a thump outside the door. O’Neill was on his feet in an instant, sidearm in hand.  
  
The doors hissed open, and John tumbled into Rodney’s quarters, stark naked.  
  
O’Neill didn’t hesitate, snatched John’s clothes from Rodney and thrust them at John, who pulled them on with shaking hands.  
  
“John?” Rodney stared at him, unable to believe it. He was alive. He was safe. He was -  
  
John fumbled with the buttons on his uniform short, and Rodney moved to help him.  
  
“What’s your name? Do you know who you are?” O’Neill asked.  
  
Rodney glared at him, irritated. Why was he still there?”  
  
“Daniel de-Ascended naked and with memory loss,” O’Neill said.  
  
“Oh. John?” Rodney peered at him. “Do you remember me?” He paused in his helping John button his shirt.  
  
John gazed at Rodney for a long moment, leaned in, and kissed him.  
  
“And that’s my cue,” O’Neill said.  
  
Rodney barely registered the sound of his door opening and closing again. John was warm and firm and _alive_ in Rodney’s arms.  
  
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Rodney said. He pulled back, pressed a hand to John’s throat. There was a small scar, but no wound, no scab, no bleeding.  
  
John smiled fondly and answered - in Ancient. Rodney sighed. Right. De-Ascension. Back to square one. No matter. They were sharing the only language that mattered at that moment. Rodney leaned up and kissed John again, and he undid all the work he’d done buttoning John’s shirt, led John back toward the bed.  
  
John would be back to speaking English in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by The Script.


End file.
